


feeling stupid, feeling small

by nosecoffee



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, Apathy, Blatant Hurt, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Dialogue Sparse, Disassociation, Drug Use, Gen, Hurt, I don't even know what this means, I have taken some liberties, Metaphors, Referenced suicide, Repeated Metaphors, Repitition, Skittles, Suicide, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Threats, Verbal Abuse, Very Minor, a bit of verbal abuse, gummy bears, its minor but it's there, jared centric, mcdonalds, my prose are a fucking mess, no comfort, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 10:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11965665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/pseuds/nosecoffee
Summary: Jared isn't anywhere.Ever.And that's fine, until it's not.





	feeling stupid, feeling small

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "One Of Us" by ABBA
> 
> I needed to write some Jared. I love him too much to leave him as a background character in anything. So, as I do it's every fever-dream-ridden-fic I put up here, I'm really sorry if this makes no sense.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Jared is the oldest of four children. There are two years between each of them, stretching back to his youngest sister at age twelve.

Jared has no friends. Sure, his parents send him away to a summer camp and he hangs out with kids there, but those kids all run off afterwards, and he doesn't see them for the next nine months, and the process continues.

(He may say his bunk dominated a capture the flag, and he isn't lying, but that doesn't mean that he was among the best players, and that doesn't mean that they really saw him as a part of their team.)

The closest thing Jared has to a friend is a nervous wreck who used to be present at all the neighbourhood barbecues until his family downsized, across town, and then his father up and left.

And now, _now_ Evan isn't anywhere, ever.

So, Jared isn't anywhere, ever, either.

Jared is playing video games in his room. Jared is taking fifteen minute showers until the hot water runs out or his brother starts banging on the door. Jared is slumping against the fence at neighbourhood barbecues with other teenagers who'd rather be anywhere else, and glancing at his phone every so often, as if the lack of buzzing or text tone doesn't mean there's no notifications.

Jared isn't anywhere.

Ever.

And that's fine, until it's not.

Until he can't sleep anymore, until he checks his laptop for messages of notifications at all hours, until he gets up and makes himself a sandwich at three am. Because he's apparently lost control of his fucking life.

And he wonders why everything suddenly sucks, and why he can't seem to think anymore, and why he feels like he's falling. All the time.

And why he's yelling, calling out for anyone to hear, and, yet, no one around him seems to notice.

Jared is trapped. Jared is stuck. Jared is oldest of four, Jared is friendless, Jared is nowhere, ever.

Until Jared gets his drivers licence, and can go anywhere he wants, whenever, and that changes things, drastically.

And, suddenly, Jared is everywhere, always.

Jared is driving up and down the streets, in town, wasting gas, parking in fields, and on the pier, looking out at the garbage river, and up on the lookout point where people go to make out and have shitty car sex, and by the old mill bridge, just down the dusty road from that dumb ice cream place, and the synagogue, and Alana Beck's sweet little cottage-slash-life size doll house.

And he sits on the roof of his car and he looks up at the stars that are more visible here than the roof of his house, and he wishes he had the guts to actually drive over the bridge, and not come back.

Wishes he had the guts to drive over the bridge, past the water tower, past the burnt down mill, past the closed orchard and the unfinished suburb.

Wishes he had the guts to actually run away. (As if it'd make any difference, but he can dream.)

Jared climbs back into his car, turns the volume on the radio up and drives home.

It doesn't really change much. In fact, the gift of a mode of transport, accessible whenever he wants, just drives home how fucking trapped he is.

Jared makes appearances at neighbourhood barbecues, and lets old ladies from temple squish his cheeks, and eats his fill, and slumps against the fence.

And Jared catches the eye of someone slumped against the opposite fence. And Jared doesn't look away.

How long have the Murphy's been present at these functions?

Everyone knows that they're rich as fuck, everyone knows that they live in the best house in town, everyone knows they could murder someone and get away with it.

That used to be true, anyways.

Ever since Connor Murphy, eldest of the two Murphy children, decided to lose his fucking marbles, that hasn't been so true.

The police would sure be lenient with him, what with Connor being white and part of a rich, influential, powerful family, but that doesn't mean-

"A picture would last longer." Connor says.

Jared jumps. When had he moved? How had Jared gotten so lost on his thoughts?

"Uh..." Nothing witty comes to mind so Jared just ends up saying, "Sure."

Sabrina Patel, who's sitting in a lawn chair, nearby, snorts and then tries to cover it up with a cough.

"Whatever. I'm driving my sister to McDonalds, because our mom is going to force us to eat the vegetarian patties and if we're gonna survive this barbecue, we've gotta have something good to follow it up, with." Connor shrugs in the direction of his sister. The sister with fading indigo streaks in her hair, dungarees and graffitied cuffs. She's standing across the yard, by the cherry tree. "She told me to invite you."

"And here I thought you were doing this out of the goodness of your heart." Jared says, sarcasm seeping into his tone and Connor rolls his eyes.

"Don't push it. I _will_ retract the invitation." He says. "Also, if you do come, you're paying for your own meal."

"Sounds fine, to me." Jared tells him.

And it's weird.

He gets McDonalds with the Murphy siblings, and arrives back just in time to see his sixteen year-old sister flirting with Matt Holtzer, by the drinks cooler.

And everything goes back to normal, and Connor glares at Jared on his way out the door, as if to say, _this never happened._

And it's not like either of them have too much of a fragile reputation, so it doesn't matter.

That night Jared drives out to the mill bridge and then crosses it, on foot. And.

_And._

It's nothing revolutionary.

He drives home. Makes himself some Easy Mac. Takes a ten minute shower that goes cold at the eight minute mark. Goes to bed.

Rinse.

Repeat.

Jared has no friends.

Sometimes, he talks to Evan Hansen, over Facebook Messenger, on his phone, or gets into fights in YouTube comments, or posts controversial opinions on Twitter that get five likes.

Sometimes, he gets McDonalds with the Murphy siblings, and they don't talk much, but it's nice, and that's enough.

Jared drives out to the gas station by the pier. He fills up his gas tank, pays at the counter, and buys a few packets of Skittles.

And if he sees Alana Beck sitting on the end of the pier, feet dangling off the edge, he doesn't call out to her, or walk over.

Jared gets back in his car. Shoves three packed of Skittles into the glovebox where hopefully his youngest sister won't find them. Leaves the fourth in his lap.

And if she jumps and turns to look as his door slams shut, he probably doesn't notice.

If he noticed, he would have said hello.

The end of the year. His parents ship him and his siblings off to varying summer camps and he's stuck in purgatory of people who pretend to like him for three months.

(Later, he'll tell Evan that he got to second base with this girl from Israel who's going to be in the army, but, in reality, that's just a story one of the guys in his cabin told them.)

He gets back in town two days before school starts. His fourteen year old brother is already back, and his sister's will be back the next day. And Jared almost prefers the organised chaos of summer camp to the sensation of being trapped without any verbal or physical confirmation of that being so.

Jared drives to the lookout point and sits on the roof of his car, and tries to ignore that Zoe Murphy is sitting in the passenger seat of Matt Holtzer's car.

The only other car in the lot.

He tries to ignore when she gets out and has a heated phone call with Connor over by the picnic tables. ("Why do you care? Why does it matter who I'm with? Fuck you. Fuck you. No. I'll do what I want to do. Expect me home whenever the fancy strikes you, fucker.")

He tries to ignore when she climbs into the backseat with Matt.

He _tries_ to ignore it.

And then she gets back out of the car, and says _no,_ forcefully, and Matt scowls at her, climbs into the front seat, and drives away.

And Zoe just stands there, for a second. And she looks up at him. And she looks like she's about to cry. And he can't ignore it, not anymore. So, what can Jared do?

"Need a ride home?" He asks, and Zoe nods.

They stop off at McDonalds and he drops her off down the street, and he goes home.

And the next day he wakes up to Connor Murphy, standing on his doorstep, holding a crumpled paper bag from McDonalds.

"What can I do for you?" Jared asks.

"Stay the fuck away from my sister." Connor snarls.

"What?" God, he's so fucking eloquent, isn't he?

"I don't know why she was with you, or why I could hear her crying herself to sleep through the wall last night, but if I ever so much as see you glance at her, I will fucking end you." He's pale. His hair is greasy, his pupils blown, eyes rimmed red. He's _high._

"Connor, that's not what I-" Connor cuts him off, shoving him in the shoulder.

"I don't care how fucking _chummy_ you thought us three were - you have absolutely no right to be-" his face contorts in frustration, and he settles with shoving Jared, again. "Just fuck _off."_  Connor storms down the drive, crumpling up the paper bag and tossing it to the grass.

Jared can't say he's confused. He knows exactly what Connor must be thinking. And he wants to explain. _Needs_ to explain.

But he's too much of a coward to chase after him and demand a second chance, tell him he's got it all wrong.

He can't do it. He doesn't drive anywhere, that night. He has dinner with his family and goes to bed, and if he steals a bit of his mother's migraine medication, just for the thrill of being asleep, nobody needs to know about it.

So, of course, the next day is hell.

He stews about Connor all morning, stews as he lies to Evan about his summer, as he laughs at Evan, and then he sees Connor and it all comes to a head with him and his dumb mouth.

Afterwards, he thinks over his words so many times they don't even sound like words to him, anymore. Jared can't believe he let himself get so angry at being misunderstood by one of the only people who could've been his friend, dare he say it, that he said it.

He.

Jared isn't anywhere. For the next two days, Jared is nowhere.

("Connor Murphy is batshit out of his mind.") ("He's going to ruin your life with it. For sure. I mean, I would.")

(What kind of a fucking litmus test is that?)

(Since when have Connor and Jared been anywhere near synced?)

And he continues so, until there's his phone, buzzing with a notification.

And Evan delivers the blow.

"Holy. Shit."

And Jared's on autopilot.

(The Murphy siblings absences suddenly make sense. The late night McDonalds trips. The angry phone calls. The threats. The absolute desperation in Connor's eyes, offering him a trip out of that dumb fucking backyard.)

(Jared doesn't understand.)

(Jared isn't sure what he's doing.)

(Jared takes a four minute shower and walks up to the lookout point to clear his head.)

_(Connor Murphy is gone.)_

(Jared doesn't know how to handle this. It shouldn't be hitting him this hard. He hardly knew him. He _didn't_ know him. He shouldn't be losing his mind over this.)

(Jared _doesn't_ freak out.)

(Jared walks to the gas station by the pier and buys more gummy bears than he can probably carry. He sits on the end of the pier. He lets his feet dangle.)

(Jared tries to calm himself down.)

(Jared's phone goes off. It's just a Twitter notification from Alana Beck.)

(She's Tweeting about Connor.)

Jared goes home and steals some of his moms migraine medication, again, and passes out, because being unconscious is better than freaking out over the closest person he had to a friend committing suicide.

Jared tries to forget.

Jared is the oldest of four children.

Jared doesn't have any friends.

Jared isn't anywhere, ever.

Well, he is, but he's not where the spotlight is. No one wants to hear where he was. No one wants to say, _"Jared Kleinman, at the lookout point, with the crippling social ineptitude."_

That's the dumbest game of _Cluedo_ , ever.

They wouldn't listen if he tried to tell them, anyway.

No one would listen.

Jared tries to force himself to be the protagonist, and, in the process, becomes someone no one wants to listen to.

Jared is trapped in a new sense.

Jared isn't anywhere.

Or, is Jared not any _one?_

 

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked this (or, if you didn't, I'm not picky) you can drop me a comment, telling me what you liked/hated/found interesting, and/or you can leave a kudos.
> 
> Hmu on Tumblr @nose-coffee
> 
> Thank you!


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